Chapter 3 #2
"I eliminated a threat to my family on that tarp," Dominic corrects, his voice dropping an octave, slipping into a low, rumbling register that vibrates straight through my bones.
"I did not kidnap you. I extracted you from a volatile situation.
And I provided you with better garments than the ones you ruined. "
"I have a life!" I yell, the frustration and terror finally boiling over, breaking through my paralysis.
I shove my hand against his chest. It's like pushing a brick wall.
He doesn't yield a single millimeter. Beneath the thin cotton of his henley, the dense, heavy muscle is warm and impossibly solid.
"I have a flower shop to open. I have orders to fulfill.
Today is a Saturday. It's my busiest day.
I have brides waiting for their arrangements. You can't just keep me here!"
Dominic looks down at where my hand is pressed against his chest over his heart. The steady, slow thud of his heartbeat pulses against my palm. Calm. Untouched by my panic.
Slowly, deliberately, he reaches up. His massive hand swallows mine. His palm is rough with calluses, the grip possessive and absolute as he pulls my hand away from his chest, but he doesn't let it go. He holds my knuckles, his thumb brushing over the soft skin he coated in cream last night.
"Your shop will remain closed," he says, his dark eyes rising from our joined hands to lock onto mine.
"You can't do that!" I struggle against his grip, trying to pull my hand back, but his fingers tighten just enough to hold me in place without bruising. "I will go bankrupt. I have rent. I have suppliers. I can't just disappear!"
"The rent on the commercial space at 402 North State Street has been paid in full for the next five years," Dominic states, his voice perfectly level, tracking my wide, horrified eyes.
"Your suppliers have been compensated for all outstanding invoices, plus a fifty percent premium for the inconvenience of canceling today's deliveries.
The brides who expected their arrangements have received full refunds and equivalent floral packages from a competitor, anonymously paid for by an external account. "
I stop struggling. My lungs seize. The air completely empties from my chest.
"You... what?"
"I dismantled your problems, Sienna," he says softly, taking a fraction of a step closer, erasing the last inch of space between us.
The tips of his shoes touch my bare toes.
"Every single one of them. They no longer exist. You have no lease to pay, no clients to answer to.
I am the only obligation you have left."
"You have no right," I whisper, my voice hollow, the sheer magnitude of his control crashing down on me.
He didn't just take me from the restaurant.
In the span of eight hours, while I was asleep in his bed, he dismantled my entire life.
He erased my financial burdens, my obligations, my responsibilities.
He cut every string tying me to the outside world.
"I have every right," Dominic counters, a dark, primal possessiveness bleeding into his tone.
He releases my hand, only to slide his palm up my arm, over the slick silk of the sleeve, until his fingers curve around the back of my neck.
His thumb rests heavily against the frantic pulse jumping beneath my jaw.
"You saw things last night that you were never meant to see.
In my world, a civilian who sees what you saw is a liability. A loose end."
"So tie me up and throw me in the lake," I choke out, tears finally breaking free and tracking hot down my cheek. "If I'm a liability, just kill me."
The reaction is instantaneous. And terrifying.
Dominic's grip on my neck tightens—not to hurt, but to own.
His fingers curl into the base of my skull with sudden, explosive authority.
He hauls me sideways out from behind the armchair, dragging me with him until my spine hits the cold drywall.
He follows immediately, his massive frame crowding in, caging me between his heat and the stone-cold wall.
His left hand slams flat against the plaster beside my head while his right hand remains wrapped tightly around my nape.
"Do not," he snarls, the calm veneer shattering completely, revealing the monster underneath, "ever suggest I would harm you. Do not ever speak those words again. Do you understand me?"
My throat is entirely clogged with adrenaline. I nod frantically, unable to form words.
His face is inches from mine. His chest heaves against my breasts, the heavy, dark heat of him entirely consuming me. He is staring at my mouth. The anger in his eyes morphs, shifting violently from rage to a dark, obsessive hunger.
"You were a liability," Dominic breathes, his voice dropping to a harsh, gravelly whisper. His thumb strokes a slow, heavy line over my jawbone, wiping away the tear. "Fabio told me to handle you. He told me to put a bullet in your head and leave you on that tarp."
A pathetic little whimper escapes my throat.
"But I looked at you," Dominic continues, his dark eyes burning, pinning me to the wall with their sheer intensity. "You dropped that vase. The glass shattered. You looked at me with those copper curls falling in your face, pinning me with those wide, amber-hazel eyes, and my chest tore open."
He leans in closer. The scent of him is intoxicating—dark, spicy, completely overwhelming.
I can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over my parted lips.
My heart is battering against my ribcage like a trapped bird.
I should push him away. I should scream.
But the heavy, magnetic pull of his dominance anchors me in place. My body betrays me entirely.
My mind screams at me to run, yet my body betrays me, my pussy turning slick and heavy beneath the crushing force of his attention.
The air thickens with the scent of my arousal—the raw, musk-heavy smell of my pussy drenching the silk between my legs.
His nostrils flare as he drinks in the smell of my need.
He knows I'm soaking for him. The knowledge that he can smell exactly what he does to me sends a wave of mortified heat crashing up my throat, and still my body leans into his.
"You are not a liability, Sienna," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my lips again. He tilts his head, the angle predatory, perfectly aligning his mouth with mine. "You are mine. You belonged to me the second you walked through that oak door. I am simply securing what is mine."
I gasp, the sound fragile and broken. "I don't belong to anyone."
"Lie to yourself if you need to," Dominic whispers against the corner of my mouth.
His lips brush the sensitive skin just below my lower lip.
The contact is electric, a jolt of pure fire that shoots straight down my spine.
His cock, thick and rigid, presses through his tailored slacks and into the soft apex of my thighs—the sheer, terrifying weight of it doesn't just cage me, it occupies me.
My clit aches with a desperation I cannot suppress, swollen and oversensitive against the thin fabric between us, my body surrendering to him completely while my mind still scrambles to find its footing. "But don't lie to me."
My eyelids flutter shut. His presence has narrowed my world to a single point—him. Every variable falls away. There is only the rigid tension in his thighs bracketed around my legs. The flex of his heavy chest muscles every time he inhales. The devastating precision of him.
He shifts his hand from the wall, bringing it up to cup the side of my face. His large hand easily covers my cheek and jaw, his long fingers threading into the messy tangle of my hair. He tips my head back, exposing the line of my throat.
"Open your eyes, Sienna."
I obey, unable to fight the command. My gaze clashes with his. The hunger there is naked. Devastating. It is the look of a man who will burn down the entire city of Chicago just to keep me warm. "No one," he states, with complete and chilling conviction, "will ever touch you again and live."
He leans in. The tip of his nose brushes mine.
The raw, masculine heat of his mouth hovers a millimeter from my lips.
My chest tightens, my lips parting involuntarily, waiting for the impact.
Waiting for him to consume me. The tension is a physical wire pulled so tight it's slicing through the air.
He wants to devour me. I can feel it in the brutal grip of his fingers, in the heavy, ragged pull of his breathing.
But he doesn't close the distance.
He holds perfectly still, tormenting me with the near-miss, the proximity a deliberate torture. He is waiting for me to close the gap. He is waiting for my surrender.
"Submit, Sienna," Dominic commands, the word vibrating through my chest as his thumb hooks into my lower lip, pulling it down to expose my teeth. "Tell me you know whose house this is. Tell me you know who owns you."
"I..." My brain has narrowed to a single point, every variable I usually track discarded, leaving only the heat of his mouth and the weight of his hand. "I understand."
"Good."
The sharp, heavy thud of knuckles rapping against the thick oak door down the hall shatters the silence.
The sound hits like a gunshot. I jolt, a gasp tearing from my throat, but Dominic doesn't flinch.
He doesn't step back immediately either.
He lingers for one long, agonizing second, his thumb pressing firmly against my lower lip, dragging down hard enough to make my mouth open wider.
He stares at my wet, parted lips, a muscle jumping wildly in his jaw.
"Dom," a deep, rough voice calls out from the hallway. I recognize the voice. It's the aggressive giant from last night. The one who was so eager to shoot me. Fabio. "We have a problem. The Bellanti sweep hit a snag."
Dominic's eyes finally tear away from my mouth.
The obsessive, hungry look vanishes, instantly replaced by the cold, calculating mask of the Don.
The transition is violent in its speed. The man who was just vibrating with the need to possess me is gone, buried beneath twenty years of ruthless survival and organized violence.
He steps back. His fingers loosen deliberately, releasing me into the three feet of space he's decided to allow.
The sudden absence of his heat leaves me shivering, the cold air of the room rushing in to hit my flushed skin.
I sag slightly against the wall, my legs struggling to support my weight now that he is no longer pinning me in place.
"Eat your breakfast, Sienna," Dominic orders, his tone clipped and professional. He gestures sharply toward the marble island where the espresso cup sits next to a plate of perfectly arranged pastries and fruit I hadn't even noticed. "Drink the coffee."
He turns on his heel and strides toward the hallway. He doesn't look back.
"Dominic," I call out, the name tasting foreign and dangerous on my tongue.
He stops at the edge of the living room, his broad back to me. "What?"
"If I'm... if I'm yours now," I force the words past the tight lump of terror in my throat. "What happens to the people who try to take me back?"
Dominic slowly turns his head, just enough for me to see the hard, merciless line of his profile. The silver at his temple catches the gray light from the bulletproof windows.
"No one," he says, with absolute, terrifying certainty, "will ever touch you again and live."
He walks down the hall, the heavy oak door opening and shutting with a solid, final thud.
I am alone in the massive room. The ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the distance is the only sound. I look at the plate of food. I look at the cup of dark espresso. I wrap my arms around my waist, clutching the black silk tight against my body, trying to hold myself together.
I am completely isolated. I am completely trapped.
And heaven help me, my lips are still burning from the ghost of his mouth.